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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913288">one in a million</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joysince/pseuds/joysince'>joysince</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, patches aka the loml makes a cute lil cameo!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joysince/pseuds/joysince</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>10 ways to say, 'i love you.'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one in a million</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>content warning:</p><p>alcohol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1. In the morning, quiet enough that the wind barely picks it up, that the sound barely travels from mouth to ear, from one heart to another. Lips pressed briefly to his knuckles, lingering despite their fleeting nature. Someone shuffles around, and someone murmurs for the both of them: “Five more minutes.”</p><p>2. There’s a small, Japanese grocery store a few blocks away from their house that sells freshly-made sushi rolls and boasts a tasteful food court adjacent to the snacks aisle. It’s slightly out-of-the-way from the path he normally takes when he goes on runs, adds about ten minutes to the journey if he’s quick. They found it on a spontaneous, drunken midnight walk a few weeks ago, George surprised and giddy that it was still open so late. They walked in together—or more accurately, stumbled in together—and spent twenty or so minutes selecting cute-looking snacks and drinks to buy. When they finished looking around, placed their items in front of the cashier to purchase, George had noticed an open-air freezer a few feet away, filled with miscellaneous food products, one of which was a container of slightly misshapen California rolls. He had grabbed it hastily and placed it carefully on top of the box of Pocky they had selected. They had gone home and opened another bottle of wine, gotten themselves well and truly drunk, and George had promptly cried over the sushi he was eating because “it’s s-so good, you don’t understand.”</p><p>Today, he ran the few extra minutes to the market, allowed himself to grab a packet of Hi-Chew before purchasing the same sushi roll from last time. The fillings in one of the rolls form a loose smiley-face.</p><p>3. George’s shoulder is covered with light freckles, all imperceptible unless you’re a breath away. Dream trails his lips up the side, mouthing slowly toward George’s nape, biting softly in between. George gasps and shivers, so responsive, always so responsive. </p><p>They play a game sometimes, when it’s like this. Or more, Dream plays, and George indulges him.</p><p>“That was Orion.”</p><p>“Mnn…Really.” He sounds distracted, voice faint and far away.</p><p>Dream traces another vague pattern along George’s neck, this time slower, headier. There had been a time when he knew all the constellations by heart, all the notable stars and their mechanics more intimately than any ten-year-old should know. </p><p>He bites down, waits for George’s breathless gasp, then eases up, licks over the mark apologetically. </p><p>“‘was Leo.”</p><p>George hums an affirmative sound. He lets Dream continue for a few more minutes, content with letting him do what he wants.</p><p>4. Dream makes dinner for them on the days they don’t order out. George had tried helping once, when he was making them pasta one night, and almost set their entire kitchen on fire. This had led to his subsequent ban from the kitchen, which George, through unethical means (namely, kisses and cute pouts), negotiated to a cooking-only-ban. He’s perched on the counter now, legs swinging, watching Dream chop up a celery stalk. His phone is hooked to a bluetooth speaker, the new song he’s been listening to tumbling softly out from where he’s sitting. George hums along quietly.</p><p>Dream takes a spoonful of the sauce he’s making, walks over to where George is sitting, and offers it to him.</p><p>“Here, try it.”</p><p>5. “Do you think, if—if we met under different circumstances, or if parallel universes exist—do you—would we—would you still—?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>6. They stream together sometimes, one of them playing and the other sat by their feet, occasionally commenting on what’s happening on screen. This time it’s Dream playing and George on the floor, legs crossed one over the other. </p><p>After a few minutes of joking back and forth, they settle into silence, George fiddling with his fingers and Dream starting another speedrun. He finds himself slightly bored, going through the motions of collecting resources and running around, until he feels something soft bump against his calf.</p><p>When he looks down, he finds George leaning against his leg, chest rising and falling in steady intervals. George, sleepy and vulnerable, face barely visible, so trusting that it makes his heart ache.</p><p>“George?”</p><p>He waits a few seconds for a response. When he doesn’t get one, he continues, “Oh, my god, guys, I think George is asleep.” </p><p>He quickly ends the stream, nudges George awake, smiling to himself as they carefully fall into their night routine together.</p><p>7. “There’s a piece of food stuck to your cheek, here, let me get it for you.”</p><p>8. Dream comes home to a couch-full of George and Patches, each using the other as a bonafide pillow, one purring and the other snoring quietly. The T.V.’s droning mechanically in the background, providing a quaint backdrop for the scene in front of him. </p><p>Fading sunlight filters in through the window, dusting both of them in a warm glow. Dream feels an overwhelming sense of adoration and wonder; incredulous at the idea that he even gets to see this, let alone have it every day. </p><p>Cicadas chirp outside. There are still a few groceries they need to refrigerate, some paperwork they need to attend to. They need to get new windshield wipers for the car, a new mouse for George. They still haven’t rescheduled Patches’ checkup with the vet or their reservations at the fancy restaurant downtown that got canceled due to a thunderstorm. There are a million things they need to do, but Dream figures they can afford to wait; they can afford to bask in this peace, if only for a moment.</p><p>9. A few months before they started dating, they spent hours on calls together, playing random games, holding conversation as best they can into the early hours of the morning. It had gotten pretty late, 3:00 AM for Dream and 8:00 AM for George, when George had quietly whispered: </p><p>“I really want to see you in person, one day.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too.” In the quiet of their voice call, it all feels too surreal, too paradoxical: how close they feel despite the miles between them. “We can—I mean, we’ll definitely meet up, George. And this wait, it’ll all be worth it.”</p><p>“Yeah. It’ll be worth it.”</p><p>10. “I love you.”</p><p>“I...love you too, Dream.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>one day, my attention span will magically lengthen itself, and then i will finally be able to write the long fic of my dreams. until that day...i am left with half-formed, cheesy fic ideas like this. i'm working on it tho! so many ideas bouncing around in my head!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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